New Year’s Eve. It took me waking up with spotted blood running down my legs to realise what I had been suppressing for so long had finally caught up to me. I couldn’t run away any longer from the pollution of change that had manifested itself somehow through the brownish-red watercolours on my skin. And in the night, I had secreted the stress that I was pushing deep inside my stomach.

It felt like my whole menstrual cycle had flipped upside down as my period came three weeks early. That sudden, uncomfortable change was the slap in the face I needed to realise I’d been doing something seriously wrong. It forced me to take a step back and think about how I was dealing (or not dealing) with all the other changes that were creeping up on me—or the ones I had avoided initiating myself.

Stress is something every Cambridge student can relate to. Just like the student loans find themselves settled in my Santander account on the 4th day of every term, so does a whole plate of dreadful deadlines, essay feedback and commitments of routine and improvement I promised myself to fulfil. But in the third year there is a new stress: change after graduation.

“In the third year there is a new stress: change after graduation”

Third year is funny because you notice how, suddenly, the hands holding the cutlery in servery seem to get heavier and a general look of uneasiness gets stuck in people’s throats when the thought of a post-July life comes into question. This fear of losing all of my friends, losing my regular routine, or even the privilege of knowing where I would hopefully be next September, was gnawing at my heart just like it was doing to everyone else. But reluctant to give in to the fear, I decided I would push it deep inside.

So I threw myself into an internship in Prague, drowning in jazz nights and coffee with strangers. I made a routine of running to Girton every day, rarely went home, and never let myself sleep in. I was texting, posting, planning—doing everything but facing the changes ahead. I fixated on staying in control, analysing every little thing until I completely burned myself out. Therefore, that morning, when I woke up with a deep ache in my stomach and a crimson stain in my underwear, it was a wake-up call.

Reading Mind over Matter: Psychological Factors and the Menstrual Cycle later on, I learned that stress can mess with your ovarian cycle by activating the hypothalamus-pituitary-adrenal axis. That stress overload can even lead to nervous breakdowns or malnutrition over time. It made me wonder – how were other people dealing with the stress of looming change?

Annabelle told me how she has moulded and adjusted to change, even though it was difficult at times. She moved around a lot as a kid; different schools and different countries – but she says that enriched her ability to connect with others. “People always ask how I coped with moving so much,” she said. “Honestly, it was tough at first, but being young helped. I was curious and not bogged down by insecurity. I just learned to adapt—new friends, new humour, new slang.” For her, change is a matter of perspective. At first, it can feel like a loss, but eventually, its value unfolds and brings a sense of clarity. She mentioned a saying from Azerbaijan: dama-dama göl alar—drop by drop, a lake forms. To her, every change was just another drop adding to the lack of who she is.

“Change is a matter of perspective. At first, it can feel like a loss, but eventually, its value unfolds and brings a sense of clarity.”

Letting go for your own good is difficult, something I experienced travelling from Palmovka to Mustek. Being alone in Prague was both exhilarating and exhausting—a glimpse into a future of solitude without the familiar comforts. The night before, in Café Damu, I had written in my journal:

“There’s a sudden lack of belonging. I hate that this is the first time I’ve realised that I really am here alone, and no amount of sporadic and staggered company will get rid of the incongruent nature of my presence, the intensity of my confusion.”

My boss comforted me with his own story of leaving his small Czech village to work in far-flung places like China and Italy. Later on, he left a well-established competition law firm to take his current one in a new direction, risking stability for growth. “Now I have a wife and kids – a big change from where I started. But where I am now is better than where I started,” he said.

Louis had a more relaxed take. He admitted he has no clue where he’ll be in six months, let alone a year from now. But he’s learning to be okay with that. “I’m becoming more comfortable with uncertainty,” he said. “I’m confident that I can set myself up for success no matter what life throws at me.”

Izzy’s strategy is all about outlets. Swimming at Parkside keeps her grounded, and she finds comfort in going to synagogue – it’s almost like meditation for her. She said it’s important to have ways to process stress that don’t just involve eating or drinking, especially with graduation approaching and life feeling unpredictable, and so I see her embracing change in building familiarity within herself. Because, even if everything changes, there should be a foundation in yourself that keeps you rooted in chaotic times.

Hearing their thoughts made me feel less aggressively afraid of my circumstances. Maybe change doesn’t have to be this looming monster and just something I had to give into. Perhaps, it’s just a series of drops – some heavy, some light – that shape who we are. As long as I keep moving, keep processing, and keep sharing, I’ll find a way to float through whatever’s next and change will polish me into becoming what I really need to become. Because “you are more authentic, the more you resemble what you’ve dreamed of being.”